


Something Uncontrollable

by Keiko Kirin (sakana17)



Series: Nothing Short of an Apocalypse [2]
Category: Wiseguy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1996-04-15
Updated: 1996-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roger breaks into Vinnie's house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Uncontrollable

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set a few years after "Nothing Short of an Apocalypse." In the Wiseguy series timeline, it's set just after the Washington DC arc. Thanks to Kenna, Gayle, and Tashery for feedback and encouragement.

"Sir, we're approaching JFK for landing."

Awakened from his nap by the flight attendant, Roger Lococco sat up, rubbing his eyes as he glanced out the window. Too soon to see the familiar shapes of New York Harbor and Long Island. As it often did whenever he was landing somewhere, the word 'home' crawled into his mind, searched around for a bit, looking for a toe-hold, ultimately crawling away again. No closer to being a recognizable concept, attached to a concrete place, than before.

As the shape of Long Island formed from the dark waters, Roger regarded it with indifference. New York. Another airport. Another city. Another stopping-off place on the route to nowhere in particular.

Roger settled back, looking around briefly at the self-assured luxury of the Concorde cabin and its bland, business-suited inhabitants. Corporate America, corporate Europe, corporate Japan. After a while all the distinctions blurred, there were no differences. He was conscious of himself in contrast to them; they were not. All too absorbed in their Wall Street Journals to take notice of the one who was Not Them.

His gaze brushed over the complimentary copy of _The Times_ sprawled out on the seat next to his. One word seemed to pulse on the page, darker than the rest, drawing his attention to the lower right column. One word: Strychen.

Roger picked up the newspaper, began reading.

_Washington, DC: Capitol Hill was shocked today to learn of the shooting death of Admiral Walter Strychen. Strychen was gunned down in Senate chambers yesterday by his superior, General Leland Masters, who is said to be suffering a nervous breakdown. The White House will issue a formal statement tomorrow ... _

Two names were not mentioned. Although the story made a perfunctory, one-sentence reference to Isle Pavot and Herb Ketcher, the name Lococco was thankfully omitted. Already fading from public memory, a minor player in a national embarrassment.

The other name missing was Terranova.

He read through the newspaper account twice. First on the plane, again in the airport lounge. No, Vinnie was not mentioned, but he was in the story. Between the words, behind what was not said. In the terms 'witnesses' and 'government agents.'

Roger folded up the paper and took a slow sip of beer, thoughtful. He let the initial, sharp slivers of anger and disgust which were always attached to the words Strychen, Isle Pavot, Ketcher, soften, fade away. Instead he focused on that one, unwritten word: Vinnie.

Vinnie Terranova. The name weaved through his mind, trailing threads of memory. A pair of searching blue eyes a man would sell his soul for. A moment in a room in Bethesda when those eyes met his in some sort of secret understanding, a moment broken by the interruptions around them. And, the threads weaving back further, a stormy weekend in Boston. Flesh and movement and heat and rough, gentle whispers.

"Ah, Vinnie," Roger said to himself, smiling, taking another drink of beer. Looking around his surroundings. Still thoughtful.

\-----

As soon as Vinnie turned the key in the lock, he knew. Guardian angel, sixth sense, or an uncanny self-preservation instinct told him: there was someone in the house.

Vinnie let the door ease open in silence. Stepped inside, hand on his gun, and paused, searching the greyness, senses in overdrive. He took a cautious step forward, trying to decipher the conflicting impressions: an intruder... but there was something familiar. Some sound or smell or... some aura he couldn't quite place.

As he stepped fully inside the kitchen, a dry, quiet voice said, "Evening, Buckwheat."

Surprise. Relief. Confusion.

"Roger?" Vince whispered.

The voice moved. "The very same."

Vince's eyes had adjusted to the gloom, and now he saw him. Roger Lococco, standing right there in front of him, large as life and half as real... This had to be a dream.

Before he could wake up, Vince wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a hug. No, no dream. Dreams didn't feel like this -- warm and firm, textures of denim and leather. Roger's body stiffened at the contact, slowly relaxed. He patted Vinnie's back as he drew away.

"Glad to see me?"

Vince shook his head in amazement, grinning, switching on the kitchen light. Took in the sight of Roger -- dressed in black, slung into that beat-up leather jacket of his. Tanned... Dark blond curls a little wilder... But otherwise unchanged.

There was silence for a minute. Too many memories and questions and emotions competing for attention. Roger laughed quietly.

Vince laughed too, the adrenaline rush finally dissipating, then said with mock severity, "You broke into my house, Roger."

Roger grinned and slid into a kitchen chair, resting an arm over the back. "You might wanna see about getting better locks."

Vinnie shrugged out of his jacket and settled into the other chair, still smiling, still not quite believing that this was real, that Roger was really here. "Oh yeah?"

Roger's eyes flicked around the room. "Yeah. I expected more of a challenge. Too easy."

Vinnie laughed again. "Sorry to disappoint you, Roger." He slid his chair closer, leaning over the kitchen table. "But what are you doing here? Where have you been? What have you been doing all this time? How the hell are you, anyway?"

Roger chuckled, waving away his questions. "Whoa, whoa. Take it easy there. Save the interrogation for later." He reached into his jacket and produced a folded up newspaper and tossed it onto the table. "I saw this, decided to stop by."

Vinnie's smile faded. He didn't have to look at the paper to know what it was. Only two days ago... It seemed much longer, somehow. Seemed like a nightmare from years past. Roger watched him, silent and intent. The significance of Roger's appearance struck him then. That Lococco would come out of hiding because of this, seek him out... Vinnie felt like hugging him again.

Instead, he said quietly, "Thanks."

Roger smiled and gave a little shrug, then stood up, taking off his jacket, hanging it over the chair back. "So. You have any beers around here, or are the cupboards bare?"

Vince let himself be soothed by Roger's casual familiarity. He smiled and asked, "You mean you didn't already check?"

Roger feigned indignation. "Now would I?"

Vinnie stood up to get the beers. "Housebreaker but not a snoop, huh? I'm glad to see you still have your code of ethics."

Roger laughed softly, heading for the living room, settling comfortably on the sofa, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Vinnie stood back, smiling at the sight. Roger Lococco. The last person he'd expected to pop back into his life. God damn, it was good to see him.

\-----

Vinnie ordered in pizza and they sat in the living room, Roger stretched out comfortably on the sofa, Vinnie sitting in the chair opposite. Watching him with the same intent, curious stare that used to put Roger on his guard when he worked for Profitt. _Hell, I should've known he was a Fed the minute he gave me that look_, Roger thought, smiling inwardly.

Perhaps because there was so much to be said, so much that was unknown, their conversation remained small talk and was filled with silent lapses. After a while Roger asked quietly, "What will you do now?"

Vinnie looked at him questioningly. "Huh?"

"Ah." It struck Roger for the first time: _He isn't leaving them._ He should have expected that, he supposed, but he wasn't prepared for it. He gave a half-smile and a self-deprecating shrug. "I meant, what would you do now you've left the OCB... But I guess I have my answer."

Vince sat back in the chair, glanced down at his beer bottle. After a long silence, he said, "You think I'm making a mistake by staying."

_Yes_, Roger thought, but what he said was, "It's your decision. I'm a little surprised I guess. I thought by now, you'd see the system for what it is."

Vince sat forward, obviously agitated, but keeping it in check. "It's not the system that's corrupt, Roger. People make it corrupt. The system works. That's what this whole fiasco taught me, in the end. The system did work."

Roger bit back the sarcastic remark which was poised on his tongue. He took a sip of beer, shaking his head. "That's all this little episode has taught you? Hell, all I had to do was read a newspaper account full of omissions and distortions to know this must have been the system at its worst. Yeah, the system works, Vinnie. I just wonder who for."

"You weren't there," Vinnie countered, beginning to show his anger. "Don't judge me. You can't."

Roger fought back his echoing anger. _I can too judge you, and you know it. _

Vinnie softened his voce and said, "You used to believe in something. I know what they did to you. I know how they used you. But your beliefs -- they were never wrong. Have you forgotten that?"

Roger glanced over and immediately abandoned the cynical response which had been his first impulse. "No," he whispered. "I never forgot that."

Vince seemed satisfied by that answer, so he left it at that. There wasn't really much to say. He knew Vinnie well enough to know that if Vinnie had made up his mind, he was not going to be talked out of it. And maybe, for Vinnie, staying with the OCB was the right choice. He didn't believe it was, but the choice was not his to make.

There was an uneasy silence, but gradually the unease faded and the silence became comfortable and familiar. The brief anger was forgotten, overshadowed by the simple happiness Roger felt just being around Vinnie again. Eventually the journey caught up with him and he closed his eyes. He napped without knowing it until Vince woke him up with a gentle tug on his shoulder.

"The bedroom's back there."

Roger started to get up, then paused. The question started to form on his lips before he could fully consider all the conflicting emotions, but Vince had spotted his pause and correctly guessed its source. He smiled softly and said, "I'll take the spare room. You go ahead."

Roger nodded, grabbed his satchel and headed for the bedroom, yawning "Good night." Uncertain if the relief outweighed the disappointment. Then he shook his head and reminded himself just how long it had been since Bethesda. Two years, and a lot of miles in between.

\-----

His sleep was so deep that when he woke, Roger believed himself to be dreaming. Certainly, it was a familiar dream. Waking up in a comfortable, reassuringly domestic bed, turning over to find Vinnie, naked, nestled beside him. It wasn't until Vinnie smiled and kissed him that Roger let himself accept that it was not a dream.

Morning light crept through the nearly closed curtains. Soft shadows seemed to highlight, rather than conceal, Vince's sleepy, cheerful expression. A sunbeam cut through the gap in the curtains, sparking the clear blue of his eyes. Roger masked an appreciative gasp with a yawn and murmured, "What's this? Breakfast in bed?"

Vinnie grinned and gave his shoulder a soft bite. "Uh-huh."

Relief and contentment flooded through Roger's body, warming it as powerfully and precisely as the desire for Vinnie's closeness. Whatever was to happen later, for now, this was enough. Was inevitable.

"What's on the menu?" he asked.

Vince's whispered reply brushed his ear, "Whatever you want, Roger."

Roger involuntarily shivered from the jolt of lust that shot through him, stirring his arousal. He slid his hand under the sheets and along Vince's body until he felt Vince's erection, warm, needing his touch. His fingers closed around the shaft, exploring its texture of veins and smoothness. Vinnie made a small, guttural sound of approval and began nibbling his ear.

"Seems like it's already been prepared," Roger whispered, smirking, giving Vince's cock a gentle tug.

Vinnie smiled in exasperated lust and whispered back, "Then you better not let it get cold."

Roger laughed quietly and pulled Vince into a languid, searching kiss, rediscovering the taste, the softness of his tongue and drawing it between his lips to savor it.

Vince moved closer, his hands roaming Roger's body, quickly ridding him of his underwear. He cupped and stroked Roger's balls, lifting their weight against the base of his cock. Roger made a brief, approving sound in his throat and tugged Vince's shaft again. Vince pulled Roger to him, gasping quietly when their cocks touched, flesh joining in a throbbing bond of heat.

Roger clutched Vinnie's shoulders, shuddering from the contact, his hunger becoming more insistent. His lips skimmed along Vinnie's neck, feasted behind his ear. He tilted his hips, pressing his cock along the length of Vinnie's, feeling its answering swell.

"Oh yes," he whispered breathlessly, licking Vinnie's ear. "Yes."

Vince moved then, carefully, keeping Roger soldered to him as he shifted onto his back. Roger slid his legs around him, devouring his neck, only pausing his caresses to allow Vinnie to reach for the nightstand drawer. When Vince's hand returned, it slid between his legs, brushing his balls, and two greased fingers slid into the welcoming heat of his ass.

Roger moaned, relaxing for Vinnie's fingers, rocking slightly as they stroked within. He braced himself as they withdrew, shifting until the head of Vinnie's cock pressed against him. Vince held him, kneading his buttocks, staring up at him as he thrust inside, quick, deep, smooth. Roger shook as Vinnie's cock filled him: rigid, heavy heat, embedded in his core.

Vince took a shaky breath, remaining still. Roger pressed down around him, locking him inside, watching the signs of pleasure on Vince's face as he moved, slowly, tauntingly. He ran his hands over Vince's chest, thumbing his nipples. Raked his fingers along Vince's shoulders, down his arms, drew them up his own thighs and grabbed his swollen, straining cock. With a soft, sensual groan, Vince began to move then, pulling back, driving forth, burying again and again into Roger's ass, thick caresses.

Roger matched his rhythm, met it with furious, wild thrusts, each bombarding his body with the pure, dizzying pleasure of unfettered intimacy. Rode him harder, his body holding Vince in tight confinement, as deep tremors began to course through him. He arched back, choking Vince's cock inside his ass, as he came, his cock jerking and shooting warm semen over Vince's stomach.

Spinning in the throes of his own orgasm, Roger heard Vince's moans, felt his body buck beneath him, dived into the wonderful, perfect moment when Vince's come poured inside him, deluged him. He slowed to watch Vince then, reveling in his ecstatic beauty.

Gradually the delirium lifted and Roger reluctantly released him. Slid against him, smiling at Vince's shiver as their wet, sticky cocks collided. For some time they stayed unmoving in a loose embrace, their deep breaths filling the silence. Roger shifted a little, kissed Vince gently.

"My body remembered yours," he whispered, then tensed when he realized he'd voiced his most private thought. _Fuck. What's next? Quoting Hallmark cards?_

Vince gazed back in what looked like bewildered gratitude, then graced him with a soft, affectionate smile. "Your post-coital commentary has improved," he murmured.

Roger relaxed. "Has it?"

He slid off Vince but settled next to him, into his arms. Stayed there, dozing off and on as he watched the filtered daylight move across the floor as the morning aged. After a while he became aware that neither of them was sleeping, and he sensed that there were things they both wanted to say, and things they should say, but instead focused on the one minor question in his mind.

"Last night," he said. "If this is what you wanted, why didn't you...?"

He felt Vinnie's lips press to his shoulder in the ensuing silence, then Vinnie said, "I don't know. Maybe because I wanted it so much, I thought it would be better to wait." He paused, then resumed with a smile in his voice, "Besides, you were pretty beat last night. You think you could've kept up?"

Roger gave him a sidelong glance. "You better believe I could've, Buckwheat."

Vinnie laughed. "Yeah, right, Spanky."

Roger reached back and pinched him for that, and settled comfortably. Refusing to let the warm feeling of the rightness of this moment pass too quickly. Not wanting to let it go at all.

\-----

Vinnie let Roger sleep, getting up to shower and shave and stock up on groceries. When he returned from the store, he heard the sound of the shower running. He flashed on that rainy weekend in Boston when they'd both been walking around in their private worlds of lies, and when those worlds had collided from undeniable needs of body and soul. The impact of the flashback disturbed him, so he tried to push it away. When it persisted, he forced himself to remember it all, realizing for the first time just how thoroughly he had shoved the memories of Boston aside, despite never completely losing the lingering touches of Roger's flesh and passion.

He was standing in the kitchen, preoccupied with trying to name this elusive emotion -- too calm to be sadness, too immediate to be nostalgia -- when Roger appeared, dressed and smiling. Vinnie let the memories scatter; the present was here. Now. Roger was here. Now.

The afternoon proceeded lazily, Vinnie and Roger discussing and discarding ideas on what to do, occasionally falling into comfortable silences. Vinnie reflected how different this was from the last time they had been together, in the safe house, when everything had seemed urgent, tense, and final. Of course, a lot had changed since then... But there was still a question, a hesitation, in his mind which with shocked guilt he identified as _Is this too good to be true?_

Dismayed by his own thoughts, he felt the need to cleanse his soul, and began the only way he knew how -- by sharing as much of it as he could with Roger. He told him about Amber, about his mother and Don Aiuppo, about Frank and what became of the money Roger had left behind. Finally, about Strychen and Masters and Prescott Wilson and Vernon Biggs.

Roger listened, every so often asking a question, not making comments, and showing his curiosity without passing judgment or offering unwanted sympathy. Vinnie felt a relief in sharing what he could, although there was a deeper feeling of unease as he recognized subjects he could not, or was not ready to, share, like his own periodic crises of faith in the system.

Gradually, the afternoon disappeared. The long silence which threatened to surround them was cast away by the welcome distraction of dinner. Vince had already decided to 'poison' Roger with his home-made spaghetti, and Roger offered to set the table, joking about this magnanimous gesture which took all of two minutes.

Afterwards they sat quietly in the kitchen, Vince hoping Roger would voluntarily open up about his whereabouts these past two years. He watched Roger for a long time, searching for any sign of old pain or a new desire for distance.

"And what have you been up to?" he asked at last, as casually as he could.

Roger didn't answer for a minute, and seemed unsatisfied with his eventual, "That's hard to say." Vince waited. After some deliberation, Roger added, "I've been moving around a lot." He flashed a smile then, but to Vince it seemed forced. "Haven't stayed in one place long enough to get up to much."

"You like living this way?"

Roger shrugged. "Mostly. It's what I'm used to."

Vinnie could feel the tension in Roger's answer as if it were a tightness in his own gut. Irrationally, he began to resent Roger's reticence. He fought not to lose his patience.

With forced gentleness he said, "You don't have to, you know. There are other choices."

Roger's eyes met his, but the emotion to be read in them was obscure. Not unsettling, but Vinnie wished he could interpret it clearly.

Roger said slowly, "I know what my choices are, believe me."

"Do you?" Vinnie countered, then immediately tried to soften this response by saying, "I just want to know, are you happy now? At peace?"

Roger began to answer, then sighed, looking away. "Ah, Vinnie. You never did know when to stop asking the difficult questions, did you?"

Before Vinnie could respond, Roger went on, speaking quietly but determinedly. "The truth is, I move around because I tell myself I have to. And I tell myself I have to because the prospect of standing still scares me. Because of what I did, I have to look at the world differently now. I can't take for granted that black is black and white is white just because I say so anymore. When you stand still, you start to believe the world is fixed, that there is such a thing as permanence."

Roger paused, seemingly expecting a rebuttal Vinnie was not ready to make. He continued in the same soft voice, "And, of course, when I stand still, I have time to think, time to wallow in all those memories... Real happy stuff, Vince -- Burning villages because they happened to be on the wrong side of the DMZ. Killing people for a mad man who took advice from his toes. Following every order Herb Ketcher gave me..."

A note of bitterness had crept into his voice but Vinnie was too disheartened to challenge it. Trying not to sound as desperate as he felt, he said, "Roger, you have to forgive yourself."

Roger stared at him and said simply, "I have. But forgiving yourself doesn't erase the memories."

Vinnie considered this, wanting to debate it, but the fact was he was probably not the best person to dispute it. His own memories loomed too close to the surface, his own guilt was lying in wait. And if Roger suspected as much, he was being a true friend in not calling him on it.

Wanting to reply, however, he said, "You can't run forever."

Roger's smile was chillingly self-confident. "Watch me."

Vinnie froze, feeling the heavy sadness of those two words sink in, weigh him down. He stood up and distracted himself by clearing the table, frantically searching for something to say to erase those words from memory, from existence.

When Roger stood up, Vinnie turned to look at him. "You don't have to live like that," he said.

Roger smiled softly. "I know."

When they moved to the living room, they settled into a surreal relaxation, watching the late movie on TV. It was obvious to Vinnie that they both wanted to step beyond the gap of sorrow the day's conversation had opened up. They moved to the bedroom together without questioning it, but despite the warm passion in their kisses and caresses, the heaviness of the evening had drained them of sexual energy. Roger fell asleep first, holding Vinnie to his chest, and Vinnie stayed there, motionless, listening to Roger's steady breathing until sleep finally claimed him.

\-----

The next morning, Vinnie was jolted out of sleep by a startling but pleasant sensation: Roger's tongue on his cock. He squirmed and sat up, breathing heavily, and tossed the covers aside.

"Roger..." he mumbled, gasping as Roger's lips brushed down the length of his shaft.

Roger, grinning wickedly, gazed up at him. "Mm-hmm?" He tickled the root of Vinnie's cock with his tongue tip.

Now achingly hard, Vinnie groaned and sank into the pillows, watching as Roger licked around the head of his cock, intent and obviously enjoying his task. Roger closed his lips around the head and engulfed him in warm wetness.

With a quiet moan, Vinnie eased further inside Roger's mouth, feeling the velvet texture of Roger's tongue stroking him. His fingers tangled in Roger's curls, grasping gently, as he lost himself to the endless, flowing sensation of Roger drinking him.

His body felt both heavy and weightless as the tingling current of pleasure mounted inside. Roger increased the suction around his cock, lavishing it with wet caresses. Liquid heat seemed to rise up through his shaft, vibrating it. Vinnie shuddered and writhed against the bed as he came, pouring into Roger's mouth, waves of orgasmic ecstasy washing over him.

As the fog lifted, Vinnie leaned against the head-board, dragging air into his lungs. Roger rested his head on his belly, licking his lips. Vinnie gave a short, breathless laugh.

"What was that? Breakfast in bed?"

Roger kissed his navel. "Uh-huh."

Vinnie murmured something affectionately grateful, kneading Roger's shoulders. Roger rose up on his knees, smiling down at him. He looked incredibly sexy, his eyes heavy-lidded, his blond curls unruly, his lips sheened with moisture, his cock a deep tan-red, arcing against his thigh. Desire shook Vince. He grabbed Roger's hips and pulled him forward until his lips touched the tip of Roger's cock.

Roger moaned low in his throat, pressing closer. His cockhead was thick with heat, a trickle of pre-come wetting the slit. Vinnie slid his tongue forward to lick the precious drop, eliciting a slow hiss of encouragement. Parting his lips, he urged the head inside, sucking tenderly, savoring its rich warmth and supple texture.

Roger began to sway, rocking his hips, rubbing his cock over Vince's tongue. Vince smoothed his hands over Roger's ass, guiding his movement. He bit down lightly, skimming the ridge with his teeth. Roger braced his hands against the wall, his cock rigid, throbbing heat.

Vinnie curled his tongue to its shape, licking and lapping while his teeth caressed the ridge. Roger's gasping moans, the taste of him, increased Vinnie's desire, stirring it until his body pulsated with empathetic pleasure. He suckled harder, squeezing Roger's buttocks, spun into such tight concentration that his ears rang.

Kept ringing...

Roger's body stiffened in his grasp, and he felt Roger's fingers tapping his cheek. Vinnie looked up, confused, saw Roger shaking above him as he pulled away.

"You better answer that," Roger panted.

The ringing... The phone. With a frustrated snarl Vinnie climbed out of bed and tramped off to answer it.

"Yeah?" he spat out as he grabbed the receiver. It was McPike. Vinnie slumped against the wall, rubbing a hand over his face. He shivered from the juxtaposition of hot sex and intimacy being replaced so abruptly by stark, cold, daily life.

Roger came padding in after him, pulling on a long-sleeve denim-blue shirt. He leaned against the doorway, his flesh glistening with perspiration. Only half-hearing the conversation on the other end of the line, Vinnie watched regretfully as Roger's erection died from inattention.

He hung up with a complacent, "Yeah, yeah," and told Roger, "That was Frank." Roger nodded. "I have to go out for a couple of hours." Roger nodded again. Vinnie watched him quietly then said, "I won't tell him if you don't want me to."

Roger gave a sort of half-smile and shrugged. "You didn't tell him before. Is there a reason to now?"

Vince thought about that but before he could form a response, Roger said, "It's your call, Buckwheat. If keeping me a secret is gonna cause some sort of friction between you two then you should probably tell him."

Vinnie considered for a moment. "I don't think there's a reason to." Roger nodded and started towards the hallway. Vinnie reached out, hooked an arm around his waist and spun him around, pressing him into a quick, fierce kiss.

"And when I get back," he murmured, flicking a rogue curl from Roger's forehead, "we'll continue where we left off."

Roger's eyes sparked with lust, then he laughed softly and gave Vinnie's balls a none-too-gentle grope. "Uh-huh. I know we will."

\-----

When Vinnie returned several hours later, however, the mood had changed. His own because of the meeting with Frank. A rehash of the events in Washington to go into the final report, which seemed pointless. Frank had seemed tired and short-tempered, and Vince had fed off it, deciding irritability was contagious. He regretted his pissiness and making a mental note to make it up to Frank later. He came home to find Roger pacing his kitchen, trying to appear non-chalant but Vinnie could sense underlying tension. Like a tightly-wound spring about to uncoil.

There it was -- that Lococco restlessness. Vinnie had known it would surface sooner or later, though he'd been hoping against hope for 'later.' Couldn't Roger keep still for even a little while? Then Roger's words flooded back to him, haunting: _when I stand still, I have time to think, time to wallow in all those memories..._

To defuse some of the strained atmosphere, Vinnie convinced Roger to come out with him to the local pool hall. Change of scenery, a few beers... Vinnie felt a need for the distraction himself.

The game and cozy neighborhood atmosphere lifted their mood, as Vinnie had hoped it would. Predictably, Roger was a pool shark, though Vinnie didn't mind losing since it afforded him an opportunity to stand back and admire Roger's lean grace in action. And watch his ass. Which Roger caught him doing, looking up from a shot. Smirked in reaction before striking the ball.

A few beers and a few games later and Vince was ready to drag Roger into the alley and ravish him there. Roger seemed to be having similar thoughts and suggested leaving. The walk back a blur of lustful anticipations sheltering them from the cold night air, they reached the house and started to strip before the door was even closed.

Vinnie caught Roger with his hands, backed him against the kitchen wall and claimed his lips in a devouring kiss. Roger returned the kiss with equal hunger, struggling out of his shirt, unzipping his fly. Vinnie pulled back to cast the rest of his clothes aside and bolt the kitchen door. Roger climbed out of his boots and jeans and stepped backwards into the living room, wearing only a taunting grin.

Desire rose thick and savage inside Vince as he followed him to the bedroom, his need to feel Roger's naked flesh something uncontrollable. Roger slid across the bed and Vince dived against him, locking their bodies together as he initiated another deep, hard kiss.

Roger consumed his tongue with biting, wet heat. He buried his fingers in Vince's hair, holding on as he writhed beneath him. Vince held Roger's hips, trapping their cocks between them, moaning into the kiss.

When he pulled back, Roger's eyes sparked with animal lust. Vinnie paused for a split second as all his wants and needs besieged him. Slowing his breathing, softening his caresses, he kissed Roger's ear and whispered, "I want to feel you inside me."

Roger's eyes closed briefly as he half-moaned, half-hissed, "Yes."

He released his hold and sat back, watching as Vinnie fumbled in the nightstand. Roger took the plastic tube from him and with gently guiding motions shifted Vinnie onto his back. Vinnie exhaled a hushed cry as Roger's fingers entered him, greased him with careful strokes, relaxing him. He was drawn into the rhythm and his body warmed with longing. He opened his legs further, brushed them against Roger's hips in silent entreaty.

Roger withdrew his fingers, knelt between his legs, ran his hands over Vince's thighs as he gazed down at him. A quiet, beautiful, fragile look that caused Vince's breath to crack in a soft gasp. Lifting Vince's legs back, Roger pressed inside him, slow, smooth, deep.

Vinnie arched to meet him, a pleasured groan escaping his lips as he felt the hard length of Roger's cock fill him, swelling heat throbbing thickly inside him, beginning to move with even, tender thrusts. Watching the open, gentle look in Roger's eyes, he reached for Roger's shoulders, drawing him closer as he tightened around him, answering strokes.

Like a fire igniting within, solid, spreading, Roger's thrusts sent rivulets of burning, sweet sensation cascading through his body, building and rising in his loins. Vinnie squeezed Roger's cock inside him as he reached for his own, tugging at its straining form. Roger drove into him harder, faster, their bodies meeting and colliding in wild, blissful union.

A torrent of pure, fiery energy crashed over Vince as he came, shaking violently from the release, all senses shattered and flying. He dug his fingers into Roger's shoulders, falling into the chaos of ecstasy. He heard Roger's hoarse moan, and Roger's cock pulsed inside him, flooding him with a thick, rich tide.

Vinnie drowned in the dense, fluid sensations of orgasm, feeling their flesh melted as one. His grip on Roger relaxed as Roger caressed him warmly, sharing a bond of vulnerable contentment. He closed his eyes as his body began to make demands for air and peace. Shuddering from the loss as Roger left him, he wrapped an arm around Roger's waist and pulled him close. Roger sank heavily against him, panting for breath, slick with sweat.

Tangled together, spent, without meaning to, they both drifted into oblivious sleep.

\-----

It was still dark when Vinnie woke up. Before awareness set in he'd risen and wandered off to the bathroom; only upon returning did it register that Roger was no longer in the bed. Curious, he wandered into the living room to find Roger in jeans, sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa, watching CNN with the sound muted.

Vinnie sat down beside him, watching Roger's face as the TV's light flickered across it. Unreadable... No. All too readable. Vinnie sighed heavily and turned towards the television.

After a minute or so Roger said quietly, "I think I'll be leaving today."

Vinnie ran through a list of responses, from an accepting nod to a plaintive Don't go, and discarded them all. Despite everything, despite the attraction and lust and silent understanding, despite the undeniable bond he felt -- and was sure Roger felt, too -- some things did not change. After all was said, and done, and felt, and shared, this was still Roger Lococco.

A dusty memory unfolded... Roger's dry voice saying, "I move fast and bore easy." No, that memory was unfair... but the damage was done. Resentment uncoiled and Vinnie found himself glaring at Lococco, wondering if beating him to a pulp would really feel as good as he imagined.

Roger turned to him then, smiling, seeming to have read his thoughts for he said, "You can hit me if you want to, but you gotta know I'll hit back."

Thrown by Roger's mind-reading, Vinnie laughed guiltily, his fury already dead. "I know it won't do any good anyway," he sighed. He gave Roger a sidelong glance. "Will it?" Roger chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

"Ah, Vinnie... I know you know that this is not about you, or us, it's about me. Right now this is what I have to do." He looked directly into Vinnie's eyes, calm, serious. "I know you understand that," he said firmly, although his eyes revealed the fear that Vinnie wouldn't understand.

"Yes, I do," Vinnie responded without hesitation. He did understand, and that was partially the problem. Understanding wouldn't keep him from missing Roger like crazy once he'd gone. If only he could hold Roger's lone-wolf attitude against him, it might be easier to watch him leave.

Roger reached out, pressing his palm to Vinnie's cheek, gave him a soft kiss. "Thanks."

Vinnie returned his kiss, feeling a sort of peace at having the issue settled, but needing Roger to know that understanding was not the same as accepting.

"Don't stay away so long this time, huh?" He grinned and added, "I'll buy new locks -- give you a better challenge when you're breaking in."

Roger laughed. "You do that." He watched the TV for a moment, then promised, "I won't stay away so long this time, you have my word."

"Good." Vinnie curved his arm around Roger's shoulders, drawing him into a kiss.

\-----

2 weeks later, New Orleans

Choosing the ugliest postcard he could find was not an easy task. Too vast a selection. Roger scanned the racks with a connoisseur's eye, eliminating the merely mundane and routinely tacky. At last, gold. Plucking it from its slot, he smiled at his choice and, whistling idly, went to the cash register to pay, buying the stamp for it as well.

There was a dark yet somehow inviting dive next door. Roger sat at the bar with his beer, affixed the stamp, fished in his jacket for his pen. He paused then, nursing another drink of beer as he considered what to write. For inspiration he turned the card over to admire its utter tastelessness.

It was a hand-drawn cartoon, which already placed it above its photographic competition in terms of ugliness. A crude, outline map of Louisiana, with New Orleans marked by a naked woman with enormous breasts. A cheerful, bright red crawfish wearing a fishing cap with his 'arm' wrapped around her waist, thought bubble above his cap reading, _Something spicy for ever'body in the Big Easy_. Yes, without a doubt, this was the worst postcard he could find.

Roger chuckled and turned it over again, beginning to write.

> _ Dear Vinnie,  
> I've ended up down here and may stay for a while.  
> Maybe I'll bring you some crawdads and catfish.  
> Here's a number, should be good for a few weeks  
> at least: (504) 555-2926. Call me if you need me.  
> Take care of yourself.  
> R _

(the end)


End file.
